User blog:Squibstress/Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart - Chapter 11
Title: Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; non-con; character death Published: 05/06/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Eleven Honesty When Minerva arrived at the Headmaster’s office at the appointed hour, she still didn’t know what he intended. Would they talk about the continuation of their plan, or would he expect to launch right into the next scenario? She was no more enlightened when she entered the room to find him standing in much the same spot in which she had discovered him at their last meeting. Gods! Did the man have to be so damned inscrutable all the time? She decided to strike a neutral tone. “You wished to see me, Headmaster?” Her question about his immediate intentions was answered when he spoke. “Minerva, thank you for coming.” There was none of the oily politesse he normally exuded when he was in his Death-Eater guise. She was glad she had opted to keep her knickers on. “I’m sorry to call you here on Christmas Eve, but something has arisen that we may need to consider,” he said, indicating for her to sit down on the chair next to the desk. She did so. A moment later she exclaimed, “Severus, what on earth happened?” She was referring not to his implication that something was up, but to what she had seen when he moved to join her in a neighbouring chair. Rather than his normal, smooth gait, Severus walked with a distinct lurch, a grimace of pain on his face when he took a step on his left leg. He sat with difficulty in the chair next to her and said, “Nothing serious. Just a fond reminder of my place, courtesy of the Dark Lord.” “Severus Snape, that is not nothing,” she replied, suddenly his teacher once again. “You are injured. Have you seen Poppy or a Healer?” “I suspect Madam Pomfrey would be more likely to supply me with a Castrato Curse than a healing spell were I to appear in the infirmary,” he said, the smallest hint of humour in his voice. “No doubt,” Minerva allowed grimly. “But Severus, it looks to be serious. I’m no mediwitch, but I’d like to have a look at it, if you’ll permit me. I had to patch up a few Aurors under the table way back when, so I might be able to help. And while I’m looking it over, you can tell me what happened,” she said, sounding very much as if she were dressing down a student who had been injured while up to no good. “As you wish, Professor,” he replied with an amused cock of the eyebrow, and he bent to move his robes out of the way and pull up his trouser leg. The reason for Snape’s long absence from public appearances was immediately evident. Minerva gasped when she saw the dark purple bruising that ran from just above the man’s left ankle up and around his leg to the medial aspect of his kneecap. “Severus, this leg has been badly broken!” she said in distress as she gently felt and prodded her way around his tibia. “It seems to be healing adequately, however,” Snape replied, wincing at her ministrations. “When did this happen?” she asked. “Just after our last meeting, when I went to share the memory with him,” Severus answered, grimacing as she continued to probe his leg. “He wasn’t pleased?” she asked, looking up at him. The idea that they had done it for nothing, or that the Dark Lord might require something even worse, filled her with sudden and acute anxiety. “On the contrary, he was most … gratified. I simply made a blunder during our scenario, and the Dark Lord was kind enough to correct me,” Severus said sardonically. “What blunder?” “I believe that at one point during our exchange I said that you belonged to me. That didn’t sit well with the Dark Lord,” he answered. “I see.” Actually, Severus thought, the Dark Lord had probably been happy for an excuse—not that he was in the habit of making them—to punish him after viewing the memory. Severus knew that Voldemort had, in fact, been very aroused by his lieutenant’s defiling of the powerful witch and had needed to find an outlet for his excitement. After he had finished viewing the memory, Voldemort had turned to Snape, saying, “Excellent work, Severus. It would appear our dear Professor McGonagall is at last learning her place.” “I hope so, my lord,” Snape had answered. “You may go, Severus,” the snake-man had said. As Snape turned to leave, he was called back. “Severus?” “Yes, my lord?” “Minerva McGonagall belongs to me … Crucio!” the creature had cried, and Snape was suddenly catapulted into a world of pain. His leg had shattered at minute five, and Voldemort had left him to drag his way out, borne along on an ocean of agony. He had remained in one of Malfoy Manor’s many bedrooms for three days until he was able to Floo his way back into his chambers at Hogwarts. Severus’s recollection was interrupted when Minerva asked, “Do you think we accomplished anything? Other than nearly getting your left leg cursed into Valhalla?” “Perhaps not what we intended,” he conceded, “but our efforts did have one very salutary effect.” “Which was?” “They prevented the violation of a Muggle girl,” Snape said quietly. “Oh, Severus,” she said, feeling her chest tighten. After she caught her breath, she asked, “How?” “As we had hoped, our memory—” she noted the word “our” “—provided a distraction at an opportune moment.” Although Severus made it sound as if it were merely a lucky turn, it had been a bit more than that. He had not intended to use the memory immediately upon being summoned by the Dark Lord. He had wanted to wait until the creature was discussing with them matters more important than a bit of Muggle-torture, but when he saw the terrified, naked teenager in the manor’s drawing room, bound by magical chains, he was torn. “Ah, Severus, I’m pleased you could join us,” the creature had hissed, as if there were any choice. “Walden has kindly provided us with an amuse-gueule to enjoy prior to this evening’s meeting.” He walked over to the girl and said, “Thank you for the pleasure of your company this evening, my dear.” The girl had started screaming then, and Macnair silenced her with a charm. Her eyes continued to roll wildly from the creature to Macnair. When they had fixed beseechingly on Severus for a moment, he made a decision. “My lord,” he said, “perhaps when Macnair and Avery have finished with the girl, you would care to see what I have brought you before we become absorbed in more serious matters.” The Dark Lord’s red eyes had glowed with interest. “Severus, you have been hard at work with our dear Professor McGonagall, I believe,” he said. “Indeed, most assiduously,” Snape had replied. “Bella, the Pensieve!” the Dark Lord called. Macnair and Avery looked very put out. “What shall we do with the girl?” Macnair asked hopefully. “Kill her,” Voldemort had answered offhandedly, no longer at all interested in the Muggle. Snape had not reacted when the girl’s eyes widened, just before Macnair’s “Avada Kedavra” emptied them of life. Severus had had years of practice. Minerva’s voice once again brought him back to the present. “I’m glad you were able to save the girl,” she said. “I did not save her,” Snape said, more sharply than he had intended. “But you said—” Severus interrupted, “I merely prevented her from enduring an hour or more of agony before she was murdered. She was dead the moment she was unfortunate enough to cross paths with Macnair,” he said angrily. “I’m sorry, Severus,” Minerva said. “I didn’t mean to imply that you failed. I know you did the best you could for the girl.” She didn’t add, Just as you did for me. Severus could not bear the kindness in her voice. “Be that as it may, Minerva, it has no bearing on what I need to discuss with you this evening.” She waited, understanding that his sudden chilliness was a form of self-flagellation rather than anything to do with her. “The Dark Lord summoned us yesterday to tell us he thinks he is getting closer to catching Potter,” Severus said. “Gods!” Minerva exhaled. “He has set a trap but has not deigned to share the details of it with me, nor, to my knowledge, with anyone else. He has asked his Death Eaters to make ready to receive Potter, should his plan succeed, and to that end, we are instructed to take extra security precautions to prevent those close to the boy from doing anything to effect his escape. I am expected, of course, to take special measures to ensure you are not in a position to help him.” Snape looked at her steadily. She felt herself shiver in spite of herself but kept her voice even. “I understand. What do you need me to do?” “Nothing more than you have already done,” he reassured her. “If you are willing, of course. Aside from the Dark Lord’s instructions, it might be advantageous to have a distraction ready should the Potter boy actually fall into his hands.” Snape doubted even the allure of watching him violate Minerva McGonagall again could distract the Dark Lord from his quarry, but he was clutching at straws, and in any event, he would be expected to deliver on his promise to keep Britain’s most powerful witch in line or suffer worse than a shattered tibia. “I’m willing, Severus,” she said. “Is there anything in particular you need me to do, or shall we follow the same procedure as last time?” “I think same procedure will suffice. I will need to vary the scenario, of course,” he said, indicating his bad leg. They both knew as well that the Dark Lord would expect variety in his entertainments. “Of course,” she answered. She wondered with a prick of anxiety what he was planning to do with her, but she reminded herself that he had taken care not to hurt her in the past. “I trust you, Severus,” she said. “Thank you, Minerva,” he said, moved more than he would have cared to admit. He thought to himself that she was the only person in his adult life who had ever trusted him without an ulterior motive. Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord had each had their own agendas and reasons for keeping him close, and they had little to do with his personal qualities. They had trusted him only because they held the thumbscrews. Minerva’s faith in him was something else again. She trusted him because he had done what he could to help her and because she had found him, against all odds, to be a man of honour. That meant a great deal to him, he suddenly realised. It made him hate what he was about to do to her all the more. “I’m ready whenever you are, Severus,” she said. “All right. I will need a minute to prepare,” he said, his voice strangely thick. “Of course. I’ll be just outside the door. When you’re ready, just tell me to come in,” she said, relishing the minuscule hint of control it gave her to issue the instructions this time. When she got outside the door, she removed her knickers, stowing them in the pocket of her robes. When he had taken his potion, he re-entered the room and removed his outer robe, so he was wearing only a plain white shirt and black wool trousers. He placed a chair in the middle of the room and sat down facing the door. “Enter, Professor McGonagall,” he said loudly. She came in, stopped just in front of his chair, and said, “You summoned me, Headmaster?” “Yes, Professor. I find I am in need of your particular talents this evening,” he said. She said nothing. He brandished his wand so she could see what he was doing, and Banished her robes to a side chair. She didn’t move or speak. She wore her customary cream-coloured silk blouse and a dark grey wool skirt. “Lift your skirt for me,” he said silkily. Slowly, she bent and picked her skirt up, raising it to her thighs. “Higher,” he ordered. She obeyed, lifting it to her waist, revealing her pubic mound. “I see you have learned to follow instructions, Professor,” he said. “Turn around. Slowly.” She did so, giving him time to look at her from every angle. When she had completed the rotation, his head was cocked to one side as if he were inspecting her. “Very good.” He used his wand to rotate his chair so it faced the desk, which he cleared of its papers and lamp with a Banishment Charm. “Get up on the desk.” She had trouble climbing on the edge, so he lowered its height with his wand. “Lie down.” She did so. The desk’s polished surface was cold under her bare skin. “Spread your legs.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she moved her heels apart and opened her knees to him. He said nothing for a few seconds, ostensibly admiring the view, then rose to his feet. He was coming toward her, unzipping his fly, when he suddenly lurched and fell to one side, crashing to the ground with a terrible cry of pain, holding his injured leg. She was immediately up, yelling, “Severus!” and knelt down beside him. “Gods! Are you hurt?” He didn’t say anything for a minute, just held his leg, breathing hard, with his face screwed up in pain. Then he muttered, “What does it look like, woman?” She wasn’t sure if he was still in character until he caught her worried eye and let out a snort of laughter. Immensely relieved, both that he appeared to be unhurt and that they had obviously interrupted their act, she gave a feline swipe at his shoulder. “You scared me to death!” she chided. “Is your leg rebroken, do you think?” she added worriedly. “No. I just put too much weight on it, and it hurt. It will be all right in a moment,” he said. “I’m sorry to have ruined things. Perhaps we can just pick up where we left off. I can make some excuse for the gap in the memory,” he said. “Don’t be daft, Severus,” she said. “You are obviously in no shape to continue with this. Unless you think you could manage with me on top?” she said. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, but then he realised she was serious. “No, I don’t think so, Minerva. That would likely be worse, and besides, I doubt it would appeal to the Dark Lord.” He was obviously surprised at her suggestion. “No, I suppose not,” she sighed. She helped him to his feet. “I suppose we should pack it in for the evening,” she said glumly. He was once again astonished at the woman’s fortitude and determination. “Minerva, you are the most remarkable witch I have ever known,” he said. “You’re not the first person to say that,” she said primly to hide her embarrassment at the extravagance of the compliment, “but I have to wonder what brought on this sudden effusiveness?” “It’s just that your ability to focus on the mission, despite the cost to yourself, is quite beyond my experience of most wizards or witches,” he replied. “Rather a case of pot and kettle, I should think,” she said. He asserted, “It isn’t the same.” “You’ve said that before,” she retorted. Severus leant against the desk to support his painful leg. After a moment he said, “In light of my disability, perhaps we should forgo the evening’s work.” “Indeed,” she said. As she picked up her robe, she said, “Poppy’s gone for the holiday. I’ll take a look in her stores for something for your leg. Do you have any requests?” she asked, knowing that as a master potion-maker, he knew far better than she did what would be beneficial. “It’s probably too late for any healing potions to be of use. Perhaps just something for pain? I used up my reserves and wasn’t especially anxious to ask Poppy,” he said with a grim smile. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find. I’ll send a house-elf up with it if that’s all right.” “Thank you.” “Good night, Severus. No need to see me out, if you please,” she tutted, as she saw him start to limp toward her. “Good night, Minerva,” he said and turned toward his private quarters. As she watched him lurch painfully away, a thought occurred to her. “Severus?” He turned. “Yes, Minerva?” “What if you just had me …” She stopped, annoyed with herself. She had never had trouble saying the words before, but the strangeness of their situation made her uncharacteristically shy. He raised his eyebrows. “What?” “Fellate you,” she forced herself to finish, the formal term feeling somehow easier to say to him than any of the more colloquial expressions. “Minerva, that’s utterly out of the ques—” he started, reddening, but she cut him off. “I’d rather that than have you missing an arm or some other limb the next time I see you, Severus.” When he began to remonstrate again, she added, “I assure you, it’s no worse for me than the other. Besides, I’m sure the Dark Lord would be beside himself with joy if you brought him that particular memory.” The thought that Severus might never have had that done for him suddenly unnerved her. “Unless you don’t like it,” she added quickly. “It isn’t that. I’m just not sure I could prevent myself from, er …” he stammered. “Ejaculating?” she asked, suddenly the no-nonsense schoolteacher and very much in charge. “Yes,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Severus, if we’re going to continue with this plan, I think we need to be completely honest with one another,” she said, making a decision. “I was unaware that we had been anything else,” he said. She looked at him intently. “Severus, are you a virgin?” she asked. “What?” he asked incredulously. He could not believe the turn this conversation had taken. “I mean, were you a virgin before this?” He opened his mouth to object to this preposterous line of questioning, then stopped. She was right. It was time for them to be open with one another. “No.” “I’m very glad,” she said softly. He just nodded. “Was it Lily?” She hoped it had been. Severus deserved some happy memories, she thought. “Gods, no!” he exclaimed. “She hated me,” he added quietly. When Minerva said nothing, he felt compelled to explain. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might believe him capable of forcing himself on unwilling women. He realised he had told her he declined to participate in the Dark Lord’s revels, but he knew she had heard the rumours of the Death Eaters’ other, extracurricular debauches. “There were plenty of women hangers-on in the early days,” he said. “They were more than willing to … accommodate even the likes of me if it would get them closer to the Dark Lord. After his disappearance, of course, they scattered like rats.” The few women who had actively pursued Severus Snape in those days were largely ex-Slytherins not pretty enough to snag one of the better-looking Death Eaters. They were hungry young women, excited by the idea of the Dark Arts but unpleasantly surprised when faced with the reality. Snape had bedded them eagerly enough, but they had all become tiresome in the end, with their complaints and demands, and ultimately, their fears. After the Dark Lord’s fall, Severus had taken a more economic view of things and made infrequent trips to one of Knockturn Alley’s brothels on the rare occasions when he felt the need to be touched by another human being. “Thank you for being honest with me, Severus,” Minerva said. “Now I will be honest with you. When we broached the idea of implementing this scheme, I thought it would be … well, not easy, precisely, but …” She stopped, struggling for the right words and then gave up trying to find them. “I don’t really know what I thought. But it has turned out to be harder than I imagined.” He looked pained. “Minerva—” he began. “Not because of anything you did,” she interrupted. “It’s just the nature of the thing, I suppose. But what has made it more difficult, I think, is the way you and I have been pussyfooting around one another. Let’s stop that. I do appreciate your concern for my feelings. When you showed me your list of possible activities, oral copulation wasn’t on it. I need to know if that was because you preferred not to do it, or because you thought it might offend my sensibilities. Because if it’s the latter, you needn’t worry. My sensibilities are far less fragile than you might imagine.” Snape was rendered uncharacteristically speechless. When he saw her looking at him expectantly, he forced himself to find his tongue. “I assumed you would prefer not to,” he finally said. “Never assume, Mr Snape,” she said, as if she were correcting a student who had misstated the third exception to Gamp’s Law. “Now, do you think we can manage to accomplish what we’re here for, or should we give it up as a bad job?” she asked, beginning to fully inhabit her teaching persona. She had found her power. “I am willing to continue,” he said slowly, eyeing this new but somehow familiar Minerva McGonagall appraisingly. “Good.” Using wandless magic, she moved the chair he had been sitting in back to its original position facing the door. “Why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll begin again. I’ll follow your lead,” she said. When he didn’t move, she said, “If you’re quite ready, Severus?” A glance at his trousers told her practiced eye that the Potency Potion was still doing its work. “Or do you need a minute?” “No,” he said, limping to the chair. “I’m ready.” And he sat. She turned and briskly left the room. ← Back to Chapter 10 On to Chapter 12 → Category:Chapters of Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart